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April 23, 2007
Crying became almost a guilty pleasure for her. She worked her usual long hours, walked home up the precipitous hills, waiting for the moment she could be alone and weep. All day, she felt the ache in her throat build, begging for release. Sometimes she barely got through the door before bursting into tears. Sometimes she cried into the bath towels. Sometimes she lay flat on the soft rug in the living room and cried her heart out, her body shaken by deep sobs. The crying took her over so much that she couldn’t even think. She was completely possessed.